


Long Time, No See

by nalgene



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2019-09-16 19:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nalgene/pseuds/nalgene
Summary: After graduating and deciding to join the Scout Regiment, Jean and his fellow cadets 104th Regiment go into town to drink their worries and fears away. At the local tavern, Jean sees a childhood friend, and they catch up for the first time in years.He was a soldier now, and you... Well, he can hardly recognize you.





	1. ANGER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened to the smart-ass Jean of years’ past?”  
> “He’s just wondering what happened to his quiet, innocent friend.”

There was a time when life was easier. When playing with friends, obeying your parents and enjoying life was all that mattered. Childhood was a time of naivety and ignorance, but it was bliss nonetheless. Those were the days when training drills, brutal orders and the cruelty of death were unknown to the innocent mind.

Jean longed for those days.

He especially longed for those days as he stood among his peers, coming to terms with the fact that he volunteered to join the Scouts. From where this courage came from, he wasn't sure.

But he knew he had to do it. He was a man after all.

Their former instructors and superior officers offered to bring them out into the town for some drinks, impressed by his classmates and his bravery - or was it pity that spurred this newfound generosity?

No one really cared though. Alcohol is alcohol, and it numbs the pain regardless of where it comes from.

The distinct pungent smell and burn in the back of the throat staved off any regrets that attempted to form. As soon as the consequences of joining the Scouting Regiment began to well up, a pint needed to be downed. Round after round, the older people in the tavern found amusement in how well the cadets could hold their liquor and often bought more drinks for them.

Jean was thankful for the drinks. So was everyone else.

Some of the cadets chose to sit in small groups, drowning their worries in the comfort of friends and alcohol. Others chose to sit alone and quietly contemplate what brought them to this point.

Being one of the latter, Jean gently placed the empty glass beside him and buried his burning face in his hands, already feeling tomorrow's hangover.

“Giving up now, eh?” one of the old geezers - who was presumably the tavern owner - poked at him from another table. The humble abode was nearly empty by now, and the few who remained were slowing down, getting ready to go home. “Come on, kid. I'll buy you another pint!”

Jean groaned.

“Now that's the spirit! Get this man another drink, [y/n]!”

Jean stilled.

“[y/n]! Gods, where is that girl? [y/n]!”

He knew that name.

“Alright, alright! I heard you old man.”

With a  _clink_ , a filled glass was set down beside him.

“Here you are, soldier.”

He knew that voice.

Lifting his face from his palms, Jean looked upon a sight for sore eyes.

“Jean?”

“[y/n].”

There you stood, just as frozen as he was, staring into those familiar golden eyes. Memories of sun-filled days, light-hearted laughter and happiness flooded your mind, but he only gazed back at you in a drunken stupor.

He was much more handsome now - having outgrown the awkwardness of youth. He was taller and more toned too, you noted. His undercut was clean and refined, and his uniform freshly pressed. He was a true soldier. Since when did he look like such a man?

Plopping down into the rickety chair beside him, you sighed, a sudden feeling of shame washing over you. "...Jean," you mumbled rather miserably. "Gods, it's been a while."

He hummed in agreement, continuing his dazed stare.

Your hair was longer now, he noted. The rouge on your lips and cheeks suited you, but Jean knew that you had always been pretty. His eyes couldn’t help but wander and landed the cleavage that poked through your rather revealing dress. Your corset also attracted his attention. Since when did you dress like such a woman?

“That uniform suits you,” you stated bluntly, then frowning, “but the smell of alcohol doesn’t.”

Jean blinked and picked up the glass you had brought him. “Yer the one that keeps bringin’ it.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, “I just started my shift a few minutes ago. You and the other soldiers were guzzling the booze of the other tavern whores.”

“…Ya shouldn’t call yerself that.”

“I don’t. It’s just what I am.”

He shakily handed you the full glass and once again placed his face into his hands. “What happened to ya, [y/n]?”

Taking the glass and staring at the golden liquid, you remarked, “I could ask the same of you. What brings you here to drown your sorrows with the devil’s drink?”

Jean idly watched you swirl the glass, aerating the strong alcohol. “I joined the Scouts.”

Quickly downing the drink and then slamming the glass onto the table, you sighed and said nothing.

“Nothin’ to say, huh?”

“Not to your drunk arse.”

Jean hiccupped.

You huffed.

The owner of the tavern called out to the two of you, cutting through the heavy silence. “You two kids know each other?”

Jean slurred his answer. “Yessir.”

You mechanically nodded, scowling at the way Jean swayed in his seat. “We grew up together.”

The old man hummed and pulled a hat onto his head. “Is that so? Tell you what, I’ll let _you_ close up shop, [y/n]. Help yourselves to drinks.”

You furrowed your brow. “But, sir.”

“On the house, my dear.”

“Sir, I couldn’t possibly.”

“I’m going home, [y/n].” The old man shrugged on his coat and then paused, watching the as Jean struggled to sit straight while you indignantly attempted to keep him up. “Pay me back by making sure this young man gets home. He oughtta sober up first.”

You were hesitant but knew your boss wouldn’t let up. You nodded. “Good night, sir.”

“Good night, kids. Stay safe.”

And with that, he ducked out of the tavern, leaving the two of you alone.

Jean was first to break the thoughtful but heavy silence. “What’re ya doing here, [y/n]?”

“I work here.”

“[y/n].”

You sighed heftily, annoyed at your childhood friend’s persistence. “I basically live here, Jean.” Your back leaned into the chair as your eyes analyzed his inebriated state. “The owner and his wife let me stay here.”

“What about yer parents?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“C’mon, [y/n]. I’m just tryna make conversation.”

Your face fell into your hands, groaning quietly. “What are you doing here, Jean?”

“Getting some drinks.”

“I didn’t mean _here_ in this _bar_. What are you doing _here_ in this _town_?” you spat.

“I’m joining the Scouts,” he told you for the second time.

“What, were you drunk when you made that decision too?”

Jean pursed his lips and said nothing.

“What happened to the smartass Jean of years’ past?” you jabbed.

“He’s just wondering what happened to his quiet, innocent friend.”

You scoffed. “A lot of shit, Jean.”

“…I’m sorry, [y/n].”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Another heavy silence settled between the two of you.

Jean once again let his hazy eyes wander over you, seeing the genuine anger, sadness and loneliness that burned in your eyes. He wondered if your eyes ever sparkled like the way they did when you were children. Although you dressed and spoke like a fully-grown woman, Jean hoped you were still the same under all that make-up and layers of dresses.

“You know, your mom misses you a lot.” You broke the silence while standing up from the table.

“I know.” Jean only watched as you moved to clean the tavern.

“Have you ever taken the time to consider how she felt? With you leaving without a word to join the damn Military Police?”

“But I didn’t. I’m going to be a Scout.”

“And that’s supposed to be better?”

Your hair fell across your face as you wiped down a table.

Jean averted his gaze as shame crawled down his back.

You grit your teeth. He took a breath.

“How could you abandon her like that?”

He calls out your name, heart aching as he watches tear droplets fall down onto the table beneath you.

“How could you abandon _me_ like that?”

Jean stands up at this confession and hurries to your side. Your sobs reverberated throughout the tavern, and he couldn’t help but let a few tears fall himself. The two of you fall to the floor, the man holding you in his arms in vain attempt to soothe you. The scene would have been highly intimate if it weren’t for you furiously banging your fists against his chest.

“I hate you!” you sobbed repeatedly.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he always responded.

This pathetic exchange continued on until you fell asleep within his embrace, breath still interrupted by unconscious sobs every once in a while.

He gingerly picked you up in his arms and headed to the back of the tavern for your room. Once he laid you down on your modest bed, Jean smiled sadly and sat by your sleeping figure. He brushed hair out of your face before frowning at the way your eyebrows remained furrowed. Caressing your cheek gently, Jean wished that you would have a restful night.

He couldn’t help but stare at you. You really were beautiful.

After some consideration, Jean hesitantly moved to lie down beside you.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he whispered. “I’m mad at myself too.”


	2. LOVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you still love me?”  
> “No.”  
> “Are you lying?”  
> “Yes.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Jean’s handsome face right before you.

Seeing that he was peacefully asleep, you couldn’t help but place a gentle hand on his cheek and reminisce about your shared past. It was still dark out, so the tempting lull of slumber threatened to overcome you. Playing together as children, sharing your deepest hopes and dreams, going on a new adventure every day – you missed your life before everything went to hell.

You missed your life before Jean left.

_Did he miss it, too?_

“Oh, Jean…” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jean’s golden eyes fluttered open and locked with yours.

Surprised, you retracted your hand quickly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“…You stayed,” you pointed out quietly.

“Obviously,” Jean quipped before smiling at lazily. “And don’t worry. Nothing happened between us.”

Face flushing, you turned to lie on your back and look at the ceiling. “I figured as much.”

Jean remained on his side and gazed drowsily at your profile. The dark room didn’t allow for him to see every detail of your face, but he was able to make out your tired eyes that blinked slowly.

As you moved your hands to rest on your chest, Jean pointed out, “That’s quite the ring on your finger.”

You raised your left hand to view the gaudy engagement ring. It was beautiful, no doubt. But why did sadness always overcome you when you looked at it?

Long eyelashes meeting the water line, you exhaled deeply. “…I’m engaged.”

Jean kept his gaze on you. “To who?”

“A business man from the Capital. He’s the tavern owner’s nephew.”

“How’d you meet?”

“He came in for a drink.”

“Does he treat you well?”

“He’s promised me a better life within the Inner Walls.”

“Do you love him?”

“…”

Your lack of a response was no surprise to Jean from the way you so dryly spoke about your fiancé. If you were truly in love with him, Jean assumed, your answer would be quick, and your eyes would sparkle they did all those years ago.

Jean turned to lie on his back as well and let his eyelids fall.

“I don’t hate you, Jean.”

“That’s good to hear.”

You opened your eyes and watched Jean through your peripheral, seeing his chest peacefully rise and fall. You were not quite sure what came over you, but you decided to finally bear your sole to him.

“…I honestly thought you were the one, Jean.”

Jean’s eyes burst open but stayed focus on the decrepit ceiling.

“For years, I dreamed that it would be _you_ who got down on one knee for me.”

Silence filled the room between the both of you. Jean held his breath, and you felt your face burn with embarrassment. You tossed over to lie on your side, facing away from Jean.

“I used to dream that too, you know,” Jean confessed quietly.

At this, tears welled up in your eyes and blurred you vision. You blinked them away hastily, however, deciding that if you were going to reveal how you felt, you had to go all in.

“How could you be so cruel, Jean?” you cried softly, furrowing your brow and pressing your lips together. “Why do you do this to me?”

The man suddenly propped himself up on his elbows to get a better view of your face. “W-What are you talking about?”

He flipped you onto your back which you weakly resisted. After all these years, he was still stronger than you. You threw your arms over your watery eyes as your lips quivered. There was no way you could look him in the eye as you spoke.

You told him about your life after he left.

_About how your parents became hopelessly ill…_

_About how you did everything you could to save them, despite being a mere child…_

_About how you blamed their inevitable deaths on yourself…_

_About how you sold your body because you thought you were worthless…_

_About how you did nothing to defend your innocence and dignity…_

_About how much you missed Jean, your family, and the life you used to live…_

Jean remained quiet as you went on.

You told him about your life after you realized how pathetic you were. 

_About how you murdered your pimp and ran away…_

_About how the old tavern owner saved you from being arrested by the Military Police…_

_About how you promised to work for him because you were ever so grateful…_

_About how kind the old man’s family was to you…_

_About how the old man’s nephew wasn’t disgusted by you…_

_About how genuinely happy you were when he proposed…_

_About how you finally thought you could move on from your old life..._

“You were everything I wanted to be,” you finished shakily. “Confident, strong, driven, self-assured…”

“And after all these years,” you went on, “I finally thought that I could be like you and take care of myself and move on. But as soon as I see your damn face, I… I…”

Jean listened, awe-struck, as you lay beside him before your voice finally broke and trailed off into a string of sobs. You rolled over onto your side to press you face into Jean’s chest, pathetically gripping to his white uniform shirt.

“…I remember everything. Every tear, every wound.”

Jean pressed his chin on top of your head and smoothed your hair.

“And I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if you had stayed.”

The man wrapped his arms around your figure and rubbed your back to soothe you. He hushed you silently but said nothing in response to your confessions. The two of you stayed like this until you could hear the heralds of the early-morning birds.

After your breathing had finally stilled, he whispered out, “…[y/n].”

You relaxed your grip on his shirt, and answered, “Jean.”

“Do you still love me?” he asked carefully.

“No,” was your quick response.

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

_So that’s how it is._

Much to Jean’s reluctance, you pushed yourself out of his embrace to look into his eyes.

He really was handsome.

And before either of you could resist, Jean pulled you close to him once again and placed his lips on your own.

The way your lips melded against each other just felt right.

Jean let his eyes close in bliss, while you closed yours in sadness.

How could fate be so cruel? Surely, it was destiny that the two of you would profess your love for each other. But why did it have to be under these circumstances? As a Scout, Jean was bound for death, and you were already promised to another man.

Suddenly, Jean felt his stomach sink.

“God, I’m so sorry, [y/n],” he breathed against your lips. “I’m so sorry.”

You placed your hands on his chest to push away but ultimately didn’t.

“Jean, I can’t,” you whispered. “Please.”

The two of you continued to passionately and desperately kiss. Jean was your oxygen, and you had been suffocating. You were his light, and he had been surrounded in darkness.

“I’ve missed you, [y/n].” Jean hesitated for a moment but then confessed, “I love you. I still do.”

You smiled into the kiss, ignoring the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes.


	3. REGRET

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s run away together.”  
> “You and I both know that's not an option for either of us.”  
> “Can’t a man dream?”

Time is a funny thing, Jean decided. When you are not paying attention to it, time flies by. And when it is all you can think about, time crawls at a snail’s pace.

Lost time seemed to constantly slip through Jean’s fingertips.

But here he was, with you, making up for lost time.

You trembled under the light grazes of his fingertips, while his heart pounded as his lips moved against yours. It felt like there was not enough air between the two of you, yet you only pulled each other closer to your bodies.

His hands swept over you, following nature’s course and carefully peeling off each article of clothing.

By the time the both of you were bare, Jean’s guilt and your good conscience had been replaced by passion and desperation.

“Gods…you’re so beautiful,” Jean muttered against your skin as his hands ran over the swell of your breasts.

You sighed shakily to respond, relishing in the feel of his palms on your full mounds.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated quietly.

Jean was being so gentle with you—as if he were afraid that you would shatter under his touch. You had been through so much, after all. He didn’t want any bad memories to surface because of his actions.

He wanted this to be a happy memory for you.

But both of you knew there was no way it could be.

You couldn’t help but silently ask your fiancé for forgiveness as Jean kissed the sensitive skin on your neck.

Jean prayed to whatever power at be that he wouldn’t be damned to hell as his hand dipped between your legs.

“…You’re wet,” he whispered, feeling slick coat his fingers.

“Please, Jean,” you closed your eyes and requested, “please just touch me.”

He swallowed dryly and moved to better view your reactions.

“Look at me, [y/n].”

You opened your eyes to gaze into the familiar sea of gold, glazed with an emotion that you weren’t all too familiar with. The desire to assure him of your consent moved you to wrap your arms around him as his fingers hesitantly probed your entrance.

With a satisfied moan that left your lips, Jean’s confidence started to grow.

Jean slowly pushed two fingers in and out of you, using his thumb to simultaneously pleasure the sensitive button above your entrance. He relished in the wet feeling of your juices and felt himself grow even more aroused.

“Let’s run away together,” he murmured, eyes burning in desire.

Pushing down the quiet groans that threatened to boil over, you shakily responded, “You and I both know that’s not an option for either of us.”

Jean’s eyes softened before he leaned down to peck your lips. “Can’t a man dream?”

You smiled sadly. “Don’t dream. You’re with me—here and now.”

“…For now, at least.” He removed his fingers from your warmth and gave a heavy sigh.

As Jean moved to sit up, you followed suit and looked him directly in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Those golden eyes no longer burned with passion.

“It’s just as you said…” Jean muttered, avoiding your gaze. “I was a fool to join the Scouts.”

You placed your hands on his and gripped them tightly. “Jean, I didn’t mean that, and you know it.”

“It’s still true, [y/n].” He pulled away from you, slouching over his lap. “Odds are that I won’t survive my first expedition outside the walls.”

“Don’t say things like that.” Warm tears formed in the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away.

You had to be strong, because he couldn’t be. How could he? He was scared.

“Jean, you have so much to live for,” you told him, in vain attempt to comfort him. “You can’t just throw everything away by thinking like that. Think about your dreams, all the hard work you’ve put into, think about your comrades!”

The man still refused to look at you. “I’m a coward…I might as well just die.”

Suddenly grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, you shouted, “Well, if you can’t live for yourself, then live for _me_! Fight for _me_!”

Whipping his head around to glare into your eyes, Jean swatted your grip on his shoulders away and snapped back, “And why should I?!”

“Because I _love_ you!”

“Bullshit! You can’t love a man other than the one you’re _marrying_ , [y/n]!”

You pursed your lips and exhaled through your nose. “I know that, Jean.”

Hearing you agree with him might as well shattered Jean then and there. He had secretly hoped that you didn’t love your fiancée—that you would run away with Jean because he was the only one you truly loved.

Jean brought a hand to his face and rubbed his temples. _Gods, last night was a mistake…_

“…But I do,” you whispered to him after several beats of silence. “I truly do love you.”

He turned away, but you were set on showing him how you felt.

Moving your hips to hover over his lap, you straddled him and brought his head to your chest. In this embrace, you could feel everything, his tired breaths, the muscles under his skin, his soft hair, and the heat of his lingering arousal.

You brought a hand to position his hardened member to your warmth.

“Stop it, [y/n],” Jean weakly protested. “I don’t want to make you do this.”

“I love you, Jean,” you breathed in response. “I always have.”

With a shaky breath, you lowered yourself onto him.

“Gods, [y/n]…” Jean closed his eyes in a mix of pleasure and shame.

You repeated to whisper into his ear about how much you loved him while you slowly moved against him. The occasional moan or whimper interrupted you, but you were determined to profess your feelings for him until the end.

Having him inside you felt so right, and you briefly thought you might break at each little sound that Jean let out.

Words tumbled from your mouth. “Oh, Jean, I-I love—“

Before you knew it, you were crying. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you pulled him into a loving kiss.

Jean closed his eyes and placed his hands on the small of your back. Gently, he laid you down and pulled away from your soft lips.

“Please,” he whispered, eyes glistening, “don’t cry.”

He brushed a thumb across your cheek and, with melancholy strewn into his face, gave you another kiss.

“It’s okay,” Jean murmured on your lips. “I’m here.”

You smiled shyly up at him—it was all too familiar, too close. He couldn’t help but continue to kiss your flushed skin.

If only this making of love were under different circumstances.

Jean suddenly found himself wishing that he had stayed all those years ago, that he stayed with you.

Your quiet voice brought him back to the room, to your embrace. “Jean, I—”

“Shh, it’s alright,” he exhaled, wrapping his arms around you and bracing himself. “…I’m going to move.”

With a small but assuring nod from you, Jean let his hips sink into your own, guilty pleasure radiating from the connection. Bodies intertwined and hands interlocked, you and Jean desperately chased for another connection.

While your gentle smile was all too familiar, your glazed eyes were far away.

It felt wrong to Jean—to do something with someone he only knew from childhood. He couldn’t help but hide his face in the crook of your neck.

If only this making of love were something more.

He really should have stayed all those years ago. He should have stayed with you.


	4. SADNESS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbye."

That morning, when Jean pulled himself from your embrace, you did not cry.

You couldn’t bring yourself to. It wouldn’t be fair for him.

Instead you watched in silence, in emptiness as Jean pulled on his trousers and buttoned up his shirt.

“…Listen, I—”

You stopped him.

There was nothing left to say, nothing left to hear, nothing left to do, nothing left to see.

“Goodbye, Jean.”

“…Goodbye, [y/n].”

There was nothing left.


End file.
